Interview with an Emperor
by DarthRuinous
Summary: "I should be grateful to my past. After all, it led me to where I am today. The fresh roots of my power were tended then, tended and encouraged through adversity...I can tell you tales to make your fragile heart shudder." Step into the story and discover the origins of one of the greatest Sith Lords. Rated T for violence/dark themes.
1. Interview with an Emperor

Prologue:

Interview with an Emperor

The story of my young life?

Well now, ambitious young human, are you entirely certain of what you wish? You are granted a private interview with the Emperor of the Galaxy, and you ask for the story of my youth? What could possibly drive you to inquire into the sordid details of a past long forgotten? I once buried it gladly and intended that no creature should raise it again. You are a bold one, for until now nothing but speculation has been bandied about in these great halls of my palace.

How pale you are growing! Do not fear me. Not yet.

When I was younger (and such grand thoughts we have in our youth!), I thought it wise to conceal what I saw as weakness. Now though, the years of this body have waxed long, and I have realized that I should be grateful to my past. After all, it led me to where I am today. The fresh roots of my power were tended then, tended and encouraged through adversity. Harsh it seemed to me at the time, but I have long since learned that cruelty renders greater motivation than any kindness. I can tell you tales to make your fragile heart shudder.

But do not mark me off as the tragic result of a dark past, for I can also tell you mundane tales that will have you sleeping in your chair before long. I might even tell you an occasional story of happiness, such as it were.

Oh, but you want the truth, do you? No lies and distortion? Nothing of the foolishness that resides within the textbooks and datapads of the Imperial public educational system, you say? History is indeed kind to me there, for I wrote it.

Do not misunderstand me. I am not angry. Your words intrigue me, for you seem to believe in the absolute truth of history… The ancient philosopher Sistros once said that history is but a collection of lies agreed upon by the dominant force. As I am the dominant force, my own opinion may be somewhat biased, but I believe the facts of history must serve a greater purpose than mere truth.

Then again, history is perhaps nothing more than the activity of men in pursuit of their goals. I too am a man, despite the amusing rumors to the contrary; I too have a goal: the sum of my past, present, and future. My history prepared me well for my future.

I regret none of it.

Another lie? Do you think? Even the greatest of minds may become ensnared in their own elaborate designs. Yet I am the dominant force, and so we must be content that this is the truth for the foreseeable future, yes?

Lies, half lies, suggestions, omissions… if you wish to hear from me, you must suppress your obvious revulsion, my friend. Ironically, this is the truth of who I am. I make no pretenses otherwise, no apologies. Not anymore. You are wise to say nothing to that, but your thoughts are not entirely your own. How can any one man be so insidious, you ponder. How can I not? That is the far better question to ask.

Come then, if you dare, and step with me into the past. Discern the lies, if you must, if you can. But the fact remains, I stand as Emperor of the Galaxy, born of feckless parentage on the inconsequential planet of Naboo…

**And the story begins. This is a tale of Palpatine's formative years as he searches for his true destiny, narrated by the Emperor himself. :) The chapters are longer than the prologue and will be updated with less regularity than A Night for Opera, but I will update it when I can. As I read the novel Darth Plagueis, I pulled tidbits that I noted and used them as a basis for the events of this story, and I will post those at the ends of the chapters to which they apply. **

**Read and review, please! Let me know what you think. And above all, enjoy! **


	2. 82 BBY: Birth of an Emperor

82 BBY

_He hated me from the beginning. I hated him more. A child cannot hate, you protest, but I must disagree. I can clearly remember the loathing that his touch brought to my swaddled body. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that our relationship – if it must be called that – would be short and turbulent in nature. _

_There was a time when I was well built and graceful, but that time was not of my birth. I was a small and sickly babe. My father was never physically weak, and perhaps my delicate nature drove his hatred. He wanted a strong heir, not one so strong that he could not control, for control was ever in his mind, but certainly not an abnormally fragile son. _

_I have never been physically overwhelming. Even now you look at me and wonder how this man could strike fear into the hearts of trillions. Clearly, looks are not everything, for I sense that same fear in you, my friend. I did not request my appearance. It is perhaps part of the price I must pay, have always paid…but I digress. _

_Where were we? _

_Ah yes, the day of my birth…cursed, perhaps? Certainly reviled countless times ever since. Do not deny it, young human. You will only look foolish and naïve. I do know it was a day of destiny and smashed dreams…_

This day was a day for pride, Cosinga Palpatine reflected as he stood by the side of his gently swollen wife. Bremé Palpatine cradled her large abdomen between her slender hands, protective, demure, domestic, everything the wife of an aristocrat should be. And the small shape between her hands would be a perfect son to him.

They stood in the midst of a gathered circle of friends and family, beaming parents-to-be surrounded by jovial well-wishers, although the atmosphere had taken on a slightly somber setting. The whole group stood on the wide veranda of the massive stone mansion, which hovered before a large stretch of a brilliant blue lake. Birds sang quietly in the full trees, and insects buzzed lazily through the windblown rushes. In the distance, weightless white clouds played carelessly around the peaks of the mountains.

Convergence was the tranquil ancestral home of the Palpatine nobles, and now it belonged to him. Cosinga felt another possessive rush of fierce delight. He was no longer a young man, but he still had his ambitions, and the sole ownership of this massive lake retreat was a personal one.

Long had he waited for his older brother to sell over his portion of the inheritance, the last holdout among his siblings. Cosinga was really the only one left of House Palpatine with any considerable wealth, thanks to his dealings in Theed politics. The others had dissolved away to rural homes in the mountains or modest apartments in the capital city.

Most of them had re-gathered this day, to hear the name of his heir be spoken into the mountain wind. The naming tradition of Naboo was ancient and revered among the royal houses, as the Naboo strongly believed that a name played a large part in the child's destiny. They knew that a child lived up to the expectations played upon it, so the Naboo would spend weeks and sometimes months beforehand choosing the perfect name.

Three weeks before the ceremony, Cosinga had brought his wife to a holy man of the Brotherhood of Cognizance, a dying and arcane religious order that had close ties to House Palpatine. There, Cosinga asked for the blessings of the gender. The wrinkled hands had passed gently over his wife's stomach before freezing into place, and Cosinga felt a cold chill scrape down his back. The sensation was fleeting, and he attributed it to the open windows in the wide hall of the temple grounds. Naboo's summer this year was unseasonably cool.

"A male child," the holy man rumbled and withdrew his hands quickly. "A blessing upon him and your house." Yet he would not look at Cosinga or Bremé when he accepted the donation they dropped into his waiting palm. Cosinga had been taken aback at the old man's rudeness, but he suppressed his anger and relished in the fact that a male heir would soon be born to him.

Now here they waited, watching as the traditional _metla _was passed around the circle. The small basket contained a handful of items representing Cosinga, Bremé, their home, and the unborn child. Under the murmured chorus of blessings, he heard the faint discordant rattle of the trinkets as they bounced against each other and moved from hand to hand.

Family and friends having bestowed their blessings and support on the new household, the _metla _was laid at the feet of Cosinga by the presiding holy man (he had chosen the pontifex for the naming ceremony). Unfortunately, the elderly man stumbled as he stooped, and the small rattle representing the child fell out of the basket and rolled a meter away. Soft gasps sped through the circle, and Cosinga gritted his teeth.

The basket-laying was symbolic of a home's stability under the guidance of the husband. This was not supposed to happen. He broke from his assigned place and bent to pick the rattle up, placing it with force into the basket once again and resuming his position beside Bremé, fast turning pale, her clear blue eyes fixed on the rattle. Cosinga only glared at the holy man, who swiftly laid the basket down and backed away.

"We come to the naming ceremony of the new heir of House Palpatine," he called out, startling the stillness of the moment. The circle moved and breathed again, but Cosinga noticed that the birds had quit singing. He ignored the unusual silence from the trees.

"We hear of Cosinga and Bremé's coming heir, and we desire to see his destiny," family and friends chanted back in a rehearsed chorus, their hands outstretched to receive the name.

Cosinga felt his heart pounding with fevered excitement. Yes, he would gladly proclaim the destiny of his house. Under his guidance, House Palpatine would take its place once again as a gate against the chaos of the galaxy, as a guiding force in the Naboo government, as a power of his people.

The pontifex turned to the couple. "Are you ready to speak the name of your heir?"

Bremé took one step forward and extended her hand over the basket. It trembled there in the air until Cosinga covered it with his own rough hand. Together, they said, "We are ready."

"Then speak, and let destiny hear you."

"My family and my friends," Cosinga began in a tight low voice, "We have devoted great time to our choice, searching the archives for a name worthy of the child. We know he will live a great life, surpassing our expectations." His voice grew steadily louder, "My son and heir will be known as Aulus Palpatine. He shall be a palace of refuge for the house of my forefathers. He will build upon the foundations I have laid, and he will carry my work into the future!"

Bremé squeezed his hand and said into the silence that followed. "My son and future will be known as Aulus Palpatine. He will be a palace of excellence and peace, of strength and glorious achievement. He will be a golden light in dark places."

The crowd appeared suitably awed, repeating softly, "Aulus Palpatine will be his name."

And the holy man intoned as he reached down and picked up the rattle, "Aulus Palpatine will be your name, unborn son of Cosinga Palpatine. Bear it with all the noble majesty of your house."

Then the ceremony was over, and the couple was surrounded by a tight ring of laughing and crying supporters. Cosinga herded them all past the majestic stone pillars into the domed reception room of his home and clapped his hands. Three newly hired servants appeared from thin air to serve the varied treats that waited on the low hardwood tables.

Cosinga accepted the waves of congratulations with the dignified air of an old noble, but inside he was overjoyed. Casting his eyes over the great tapestry that hung on the far wall, he studied the family crest, a trio of creatures. The Veermock, signifying the ferocity of the Palpatines in the defense of Naboo; the Aiwha, symbolizing the water-like strength of his people, adaptable to any situation; and the Zalaaca, showing the mighty loyalty of House Palpatine.

Finally, Convergence was properly inhabited. The Palpatine name would rise to glory once again, no longer to be impoverished or disgraced. Why, he might even become as legendary as his grandfather, though he wished not for any similar end. No, he planned to grow old in the glory that was rightfully his. All he needed now was time.

He turned to see Bremé's parents approaching, and he reluctantly abandoned his daydreaming. Bremé's normally stoic mother kissed her in delight and her father pumped Cosinga's sweaty hand. "You dream big, my son-in-law," he laughed, jovial and pleased.

"The bigger the dream, the more my son has to look forward to," Cosinga chuckled, a rough sound. _The more _I _have to look forward to. _He received a resounding slap against his back, and he struggled to remain upright and not glare as Bremé's father grinned.

"I can only hope he lives up to these great dreams."

"He will, honored Father-in-law," Cosinga forced a smile. "I know he will."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The contractions came upon Bremé suddenly and fiercely one stormy fall day, at the tail end of the golden Naboo twilight. The ethereal light of the setting sun forced a few weak beams through the wall of clouds that stretched across the sky, but the darkness threatened to overcome them. Bremé bit back her quiet groans as the servants loaded her into the hovercraft and Cosinga took the wheel.

Cosinga was worried by the fresh pain in his wife's eyes, and he pressed the accelerator as fast as he dared. The wavy grass of the Naboo meadow swished under the speeder, strands of the blades pulling free and tossing up behind it as the minutes stretched into hours. Free-roaming shaaks scrambled for shelter from the speeder and the coming rain. "Hold on to him, Bremé" Cosinga muttered. His wife only groaned in response and clutched her abdomen.

After a panicked consultation with the navigation computer once he reached the rolling plains outside Theed, Cosinga roared into the docking bay of Theed's main west medical center. He could have taken her to the provincial centers in one of the local villages, but no chances were to be taken with his son. The birth was coming earlier than expected, and he was nervous enough as it was.

The evening medical staff appeared competent, hustling Bremé off the speeder and into a waiting hover chair. She was whisked out of Cosinga's sight while he parked the speeder in a daze. He then found his way into the maze of hospital halls. Distracted staff pointed him to the birthing ward, a bright center with blazing white walls and equipment and decorated with painfully juvenile artwork.

Something Bremé would like, Cosinga thought briefly. In fact, they had argued about the child's room. Argued in the sense that Bremé lost her head and wanted their son to grow up in a colorful madhouse. No, Cosinga was very firm. His heir would grow up with a head of sense on his shoulders. No wild-colored walls and ludicrous paintings for his boy.

He found the room that Bremé was in, following the cries of his struggling wife. Was it really that painful, or was she trying to gain his sympathy? He was not certain. The medical team would not let him enter, claiming that he could be the recipient of some less than pleasant epitaphs from his wife if he entered during the birthing. Hardly, Cosinga scoffed. She would not dare.

But he had no choice at the moment, and so he sat, staring at the bright yellow loopy drawing of a Gungan on the far wall and feeling dreadfully out of place. Three other men also sat in the waiting room, their faces perfect pictures of apprehension and misery. Cosinga wondered at his own expression and schooled it into a solemn mask.

One of the men scooted closer down the long bench. "How long have you been waiting?" he asked, his voice friendly and more than a little bored.

"Not very," Cosinga replied. "You?"

"Eight hours," the man chuckled. "I think she's doing this to me on purpose."

Cosinga shuddered at the thought of remaining in this place for so long. He noted the man's wrinkled robes. "Mine will not take so long. Her contractions were heavy." If she had forced him to drive through the rain for nothing…

"Hard to say," the other man yawned. "Mine changes every other hour, but I can hold on a while yet. Maybe they'll just induce her soon." Cosinga looked for a family crest on the man's shirt and found none. A common rustic then. That explained the unusual air of familiarity. Didn't the hospital have other wards for lessers? He decided to put the man in his place.

"I am Cosinga Palpatine," he received a blank stare. "Of House Palpatine."

"Oh, a noble," the man nodded. "Pardon, but you Palpatines aren't an everyday name."

"That will change," Cosinga told him, internally insulted, and he shifted in the opposite direction. The man took the hint and left him alone, moving back down the bench to the other waiting fathers-to-be.

The minutes stretched into an hour and then into two. Cosinga browsed along in a light sleep as he half-listened to the droning voices of the other men. A loud alarm rang from the front desk, and the receptionist called his name. Cosinga jerked to his feet. He was instantly alert when the receptionist told him to access Room #3032.

He wiped sweat from his palms all the way down the long hallway to his wife's room, wondering what he would see. Would the boy look like him or Bremé? A mash-up or a seamless blend? Would he have the aquiline Palpatine nose or his father's rich brown eyes? Would he be handsome like his father? A sporter? Cosinga began breathing heavily as he rolled to a stop in front of the door.

Every dream he ever had dazzled in front of his eyes. A rare Mon Calamari nurse, probably a university exchange student, let him in with a wide fishy smile, stretching one finned hand out toward the bed. He tried to ignore the idea of those disgusting fleshy flippers on his wife. Ahead of him, Bremé lay curled around a tiny bundle of white cloth in her arms, her comely face shiny with sweat and contented exhaustion.

Cosinga felt his tanned face break into a wide smile. At last, here was his son and heir. He strode proudly to her side and leaned down to gaze on the face of his future.

And he froze.

And his precious dreams shattered into fragile shards at his feet.

The small face dissolved into the white sheets, and all Cosinga could see were the sickly yellow eyes that stared curiously up, searing into his soul. Not pale blue eyes like those of his wife. Not heavy brown eyes like his own. Yellow, alien, unnatural eyes! He let out an involuntary yell of startled anger, and the nurse hurried to his side.

"Sir! What's wrong?" she begged, and he whirled on her, thrusting his large finger into her flat face.

"What is wrong with him? What is wrong with his eyes?"

The huge blank eyes blinked, and the Mon Calamari hurried forward and took the child from Bremé's arms, clearly sensing a dangerous murder in the wild man's face. She gazed down at the young boy and exclaimed softly, "It looks to be a case of extreme jaundice, sir. I am told it is quiet common among human infants. It will dissipate with time."

Cosinga felt the rage surge through his body. "Get him out of my sight!" The nurse glanced at Bremé and saw only blind fear, and the fish woman quickly hurried from the room, clutching the white bundle to her chest.

As soon as the door swished closed, the enraged noble turned on his wife, bending over the bed and hissing, "Unfaithful woman! Prostitute! Perhaps we should just drown it and be done with it!"

Bremé whimpered, "No, Cosinga, no! He is yours! I would swear it if you asked!"

Cosinga slapped her without warning, and Bremé's head snapped back. She gasped for breath, eyes wide and terrified as he spat, "Jaundice they said! That was no jaundice. I've seen jaundice!" He slapped her again, then leaned back with a heavy gasp, almost a sob.

Bremé clutched his arm in desperation. "He is yours! He is yours! I have touched no other! I am loyal to you, Cosinga."

He sagged back against the medical bed, feeling her hand twisting on his arm, feeling all the enthusiasm of the last several months evaporate from his soul. "You swear it," he groaned dully. "We will see, my _dear _wife."

She shuddered but nodded.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cosinga dreaded seeing the child again. It seemed unreal that once he had looked forward to gazing on his son and heir. He still doubted that it was his own blood, but Bremé would not lie to him so boldly, not to his face.

Three days had passed, time which he spent isolated in the nearby inn. He drank himself into a solid stupor for the first two nights down on the first floor bar, buying the other men in the room a drink in a sick parody of celebration. He refused to come to the hospital when Bremé requested his presence, telling her to fetch him only when the demon's eyes were back to normal. He was being irrational, Cosinga knew, but he cared not.

He broke after six days and forced himself back into the hospital, his memory filled with the image of the golden eyed babe. Bremé, fully dressed and sitting on the side of the bed, did not meet his gaze when he entered the room but silently held out the bundle, wrapped in a dark blue cloth this time. Cosinga offered no apology to her as he took the small shape into his arms.

The sight that greeted him was still unnerving, but this time Cosinga was not taken by surprise. The eyes were still a pale, sickly yellow. However, he spotted a keen intelligence in them that was not normal for human newborns. They focused on him immediately. Were they narrowing to study him? Cosinga shifted the child in his arms uncomfortably, for newborns were not supposed to do that.

The child growled faintly, a strange squeaking snarl that set his teeth on edge. He looked over the rest of the child and saw that indeed, the infamous Palpatine nose had found its way onto his face, comically large. Cosinga relaxed when he saw it, something familiar and normal. The boy's body was thin, almost too thin, Cosinga thought as he touched one tiny fisted hand.

The hand opened without warning and latched onto his finger with surprising power, attempting to push his hand away. Cosinga wondered at it. _He appears so weak, but his strength is extraordinary. How is that possible?_

"Can you see he is yours?" Bremé asked quietly from the bed.

Cosinga watched the boy push at his hand again. It had to be his imagination, but the infant appeared angry with his father. The noble snorted. "He doesn't appear to like the idea. But yes, I see the resemblance now. The eyes must have been a freakish mutation. I only hope they do not remain as they are, or I will look into surgery for him."

Bremé nodded. "I believe they will change. I have seen some blue emerging along the edges." Cosinga peered closely, ignoring the hapless tiny scowl he was receiving. It was true; pale blue flecks were showing along the outside of the irises.

"Well, then," Cosinga announced softly. "Perhaps not all is lost. Aulus Palpatine, you have taken me by surprise, and I hope this will not become habit. I have plans for you."

_**The description of Convergence, Cosinga's musings on chaos, the Palpatine family crest, and the Naboo countryside is inspired by the descriptions in Chapter 10 of Darth Plagueis. **_

"_**Cosinga exhaled deeply. 'I know that you are of my blood, because I had you tested, just to be certain. But in truth, I don't know where you came from – who or what you're actually descended from.' He glared at Palpatine. 'Yes, there it is: that glower I have been on the receiving end of for seventeen long years.'" – Darth Plagueis, Chapter 11**_

"_**I knew this day would come. I've known it since the first moment I tried to swaddle you, and you fought me with a strength that was too powerful for your size or age." – Cosinga Palpatine, Darth Plagueis, Chapter 11**_

**And so the little squirt was born, and we're off to the races. :) It's nice to have extra free time to write on these stories this week. Aulus was the name that won in my poll, by one vote. I thought about it, and it made sense that Cosinga would name his son something like that, since he had plans for Palpatine and was sorely disappointed.**

**Read and review! :) **


	3. 81 BBY: Sibling Rivalry

81 BBY

_My first year of life was perhaps the most idly happy year of my existence. Happiness is a farce, and though I remember most of it, it was unremarkable. Cosinga appeased my mother that first year, I am certain. Where I was weak physically, she was weak mentally. Broken even, by my father's violent reaction to my arrival. _

_Did Cosinga feel guilt for his treatment of her? Do you jest? No. No, he was concerned that an unresponsive wife might reflect badly upon his career, which would be true. The Naboo placed such emphasis on appearances that their antics would put the Imperial Court to shame. Even the colors of our clothing carried different meanings! _

_Thus concerned, Cosinga sought to regain her full compliance by engaging me in father-son pursuits. He worked with me in beginning to crawl and walk, never coddling me with idiotic notions of infant-speak as I began to vocalize. He was unwillingly drawn to me in the absence of other options. _

_At least, until the birth of my siblings: a twin set of boy and girl. They came that year with fortuitous timing; I believe my father was beginning to believe his own lies and invest in me, the fool, to hope for that heir he so desired. I shudder to think what I may have become under his guidance. Or perhaps he only tolerated me. I still am not certain. _

"Aulus! What are you chewing on now, blasted boy?" Cosinga caught up to his swiftly toddling son and swept him into his arms, turning him over and seizing the drool-soaked datapad. His child held on with his teeth, bright pale blue eyes laughing at his father. Cosinga pushed the jaws apart and extracted the gooey mess, realizing to his frustration that it was his political planner.

"You would, wouldn't you?" he glowered down at his son. "Incorrigible boy!"

Aulus smirked up at him. Barely a year and a half old and he was moving fast on his feet. He already carried himself with a confidence that his frail body still lacked, which meant that Cosinga and Bremé had to untangle him from countless messes around the stately home. Though the boy's movements were clumsy and he barely talked, his few words were unnaturally articulate and sharp, impressing the visitors who came to their home and encountered him. Throughout it all, Aulus watched and studied the adults, eyes flaming with some secret delight.

It unnerved Cosinga, but Bremé was very proud of her son's obvious intelligence. She had begun trying to show him the Nubian alphabet, though Cosinga scoffed at that because the boy could barely hold a writing instrument, let alone hold it steady. But he watched Aulus as the boy sat in his mother's arms and stared intently into the children's holobooks, and Cosinga had the impression that his son knew more than he showed.

In a way, he was proud of his son's progress too. Their relationship had tempered to a mutual and unsteady truce. Thank the fates, the boy's eyes were normal again even though he took after his mother and not Cosinga. Bremé's gaze had been something to fall in love with, a lofty coolness that well befitted an aristocrat's wife. But on Aulus, the gaze turned calculating and icy cold, sometimes gripping even his father in a dark sense of foreboding.

Now those eyes were fixed on him, waiting to see Cosinga's reaction to the stolen datapad. Cosinga just grunted and set the planner on a higher shelf. Then he moved to his favorite chair and resettled with his portable holonet screen. Ah, Bon Tapalo was making another visit to a nursing home, the benevolent man…Cosinga chuckled at the sight of so many holonet camera droids packed into the small room. The opportunistic poser, more like.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aulus drifting closer, silent as a ghost. Cosinga held himself still and waited, curious. The boy usually never approached his father; he preferred to let Cosinga come to him, but now he was within a meter of the padded chair and drawing closer still. The noble held his breath. Perhaps there was hope after all.

Aulus stretched up a bony, delicate hand and rested it on the arm of the chair. "Father…" his voice was smooth, thin, as fragile as his body, with a small lisp of a child. "'Portant?"

"What?" Cosinga startled. Of course he was important, the nerve of the child! He was about to order Aulus to leave when he realized that his son was now looking at the stashed planner. He relaxed. "Yes it was important, but I'll buy another one. Never much liked it anyway."

"Buy?" Aulus cocked his overly large head on his thin neck.

Cosinga sighed. "Replace," he grunted, using the word that he often utilized when training Aulus to pick up after himself.

The scowl lightened on the young face. "See." Then Aulus turned slowly and wandered out of the room, and Cosinga breathed a sigh of relief. Before Aulus had begun talking, he had not minded the boy so badly. In fact, when taking care of the silent babe over the first months, Cosinga could almost convince himself that his family was normal. He would have a son to follow in his footsteps, to take to the games, to train up as a strong man. He spent hours with the boy teaching him to move and crawl and walk.

He congratulated himself as being a large part of the boy's early mobility. But Aulus did not gain much in height or weight. Stunted, Cosinga worried, perhaps another freakish mutation. He prayed daily to the fates that whole first year that this too would soon pass. He wanted no intellectual weakling for a son, but it appeared to be so.

At least Aulus was fairly self sufficient. He never cried. He did not purposefully throw himself into reckless danger like infants often did. He did not stick his fingers in the power sockets or bite into the Holonet wires. No, the harm he caused was mostly accidental and the product of uncoordinated movement, not idiocy.

But Cosinga wondered if having an intelligent child was a good thing, for even at this age, Aulus was beginning to show signs of having his own mind and ideas. He occasionally ignored Cosinga's orders, and Cosinga hated it. It galled him that his own son and heir challenged him as he did, much as he had with the planner just moments ago. The irked father would call for Bremé to take Aulus away and put him in his room, a task she performed quickly and without complaint.

Bremé swept into the family room at that moment, her comely face turning from side to side in search of her son. Cosinga stared at her. "He left. He just chewed my planner to bits."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Did you - ?"

"I didn't hit him, if that's what you're scared about," Cosinga muttered. "Why does he do this to me? He doesn't treat you like this. I think he's doing it on purpose, defying me."

"Perhaps…" Bremé hesitated, then plunged forward. "Perhaps if you spent more time with him like you did earlier, treated him kindly…" She quailed back under the fierce glare that he pinned on her.

"He doesn't need kindness! He needs discipline!" Cosinga retorted. "You indulge him too much." He saw the shiny edge of a tear forming in her left eye, and he felt a twinge of guilt. "But that is to be understood, I suppose. You are a woman, and he is your only son." He stood and crossed the room to stand before her, taking her slender hands and placing them over her thick midsection.

"But this will not last. The children you carry now will train you to be a better mother. They will be perfect where Aulus has failed us. I regret that he was firstborn, but we can work around that." He watched her blinking back the wetness and sighed. "Stop that."

Her lips stiffened. "Yes, Cosinga. I am sorry. I will try to be a better wife and mother." As he gathered her into his arms, he missed the single tear that slid down one high porcelain cheekbone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bremé found the birth of the twins to go much more smoothly than Aulus's. She barely even felt the pain as the pair slid from her drugged body, for she looked into the matching eyes of her oldest son as she did, and she was mesmerized, frozen in place as a baby shaak freezes before a waiting veermock. He always had that effect on her.

Aulus stared at her during the whole birth from his place at her bedside. Cosinga lurked just beyond in the waiting room, his hopes high once again in the light of new beginnings. He had wanted Aulus removed, but Bremé had begged him in her delirium, and her husband consented. A rare blessing, to be sure.

Her son waited faithfully at her side, clinging to the bed to support his small top-heavy frame, but she sensed a turbulence in his body, a dark regret that she understood all too well. He was dreading the arrival of his brother and sister. Even though he was not yet two years old, he knew of his father's impatience for this moment, and he was uncertain of his own future.

When the new arrivals had been cleaned and placed side by side in a clear bassinet in the corner of the room one hour later, Bremé demanded to see their faces. She struggled to sit up as the children were presented by two medical droids. Beside her, her eldest son waited and gently laced his fingers in her gown at knee height.

Bremé's relief was unparalleled as she gazed down. Two beautiful, normal human faces reflected back at her. She could see the rich brown of Cosinga's eyes, the soft curves of her own nose, the unfocused and newborn confusion as they yawned and lay content in the warm blankets. Cosinga would have no cause for worry or complaint this time. The children were perfect. Perfect. "Perfect," she whispered.

Aulus looked up at her, confused. Bremé instantly felt the sting of guilt that swept away her joy. "You are perfect too, my son," she added hastily. "These are your siblings. Your father chose their names in the ceremony last month. Do you remember?"

It would have been beyond the hope of any other mother for a normal son so young, but Aulus slowly nodded. "Maree. Nadmé."

"Yes," she smiled at the two now-sleeping forms. "Your father will be so pleased."

Aulus looked decidedly unpleased. She ignored the tiny scowl of concentration and waved the medical droids away, who replaced the snoozing children in the bassinet. Bremé called the nurse and requested that Cosinga be informed of the children's arrival. "Tell him he will not be disappointed," she whispered to the nurse while watching Aulus study the children.

Her son was curious about the two, stumbling in a rough circle around the bassinet and taking in every feature. Every so often, his cold gaze would switch from them, to himself, then back again, pondering some closely guarded thought.

When Cosinga arrived, he was indeed pleased, and his hawk-like face took on a satisfied glow. He even bent down and swept his lips across Bremé's in a chaste, warm greeting. She felt the tension draining from her, joy filling her from his acceptance. Perhaps everything would be all right now. The noble moved across the room to the children, reaching down and catching up the male, Maree.

"Maree. 'Correction.' Yes indeed," he rumbled and laughed at the child's blank look. "My son." Bremé shivered when she spotted Aulus just below, coldly glaring up at the infant as Cosinga replaced him and took up his new daughter. "Nadmé, 'beautiful heart.' You are aptly named, for your beauty might exceed that of your own mother." Her husband glanced at Bremé and laughed again.

Bremé glowed with unusual happiness at her husband's teasing, and blushed when he rejoined her at the bed. The nurse smiled at the tranquil scene, ruffled the red hair of their eldest son – who ignored her – and exited the small room.

Aulus remained next to the low bassinet and peered through the clear sides at his two siblings. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Then he turned back toward his father, who still embraced his wife. "'Portant?" he asked softly.

Bremé watched her husband swell with genuine pride as he slid from the bed and came to hover over his children, cautious and watchful. "Yes, of course!" Cosinga rumbled. "Immensely important, and you must be careful!"

Aulus placed one thin palm against the glass. "'Portant buy," he muttered.

"What are you blathering about now?" Cosinga snapped. "Speak up or hold your peace."

Bremé flinched. Aulus shifted, snakelike, to look at his father again. His face carried an unusually open, apprehensive fear. "Replace?" he touched his chest and flickered his gaze to his mother. Bremé felt her mouth grow dry in an instant. _No! _she wanted to cry. _I will never replace you. _But she feared her husband, and so she remained silent.

Cosinga stared blankly before his lips drew down into a heavy scowl. "Replace you? No. But listen to me. These are your brother and sister, and you will give them the respect they deserve, do you understand? Or you'll wish you were being replaced."

The fear in Aulus's face dissolved into stony indifference. Bremé looked into the empty face of her son and despaired. She feared he had already been replaced. She feared he would soon not care. And she feared – no, she _knew_ she was too weak to help him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cosinga cooed down into Maree's face and watched in pleasure at the infant grinned back. Now, this was a son, a connection of wills and purpose between generations. Maree was powerfully built even as a newborn, all thick limbs and broad shoulders. There was no mistrust in the eyes that matched his own, just a natural, warm, intelligent cheerfulness.

Maree would cry, and Cosinga would come to him. Dead of night, middle of the day: it made no difference. When not engaged in his political duties (and sometimes when he was), he was there for his boy, medical droid complete with bottle tagging along behind him. Cosinga supposed the servants could have taken care of everything. After all, he was a busy man, but Cosinga also felt like he had a new lease on life.

Maree did not study him with condescension or anger. He did not deliberately try to move away, avoid, or shun his father. Aulus and Maree could not have been greater opposites.

Nadmé was also a blessing, granted. Even as an infant, she was a beautiful blend of her mother and himself. She would be breathtaking once she grew up, and he was certain that a carefully chosen marriage would lead to significant benefits. She was also quiet and graceful, traits that Cosinga considered essential for the women of his household.

But Maree was the son he had been long seeking, ever since the shock of seeing his firstborn. Speak of the boy, there he was, lurking in the door of the nursery, dark-clothed body blending into the cool stone framework behind him, red hair faintly glowing in the light from the room. Cosinga fully turned to face him, Maree cradled in his arms.

"Why are you out of bed, boy?" he demanded.

Aulus silently moved into the room, unafraid. "See Maree."

"Your brother?" Cosinga was suspicious. Aulus rarely exhibited interest in other people. The few times he had interacted with children had resulted in isolation of Aulus's own choosing. But the child ignored his demand for clarification and only stepped closer.

"I want to see him."

"For a moment only," Cosinga relented, as his eldest seemed innocent enough tonight. He sank into one of the soft chairs and lowered the small infant to Aulus's height. Maree grinned at the older boy; Aulus stared back unsmiling. He never smiled, Cosinga grumbled to himself, unless he was enjoying some humiliation of his father's.

"Maree?"

The quiet question startled his father. Cosinga looked closely at Aulus and noticed that the boy had gained one of his signature looks of deep concentration, disturbing, intense, unforgiving. Cosinga shoved his discomfort down as a rare chance to lecture his son surfaced. "Maree means correction. We Naboo choose names for our children very carefully. A name holds the hopes and dreams of the parents, and the child should do his best to live up to it."

Aulus perked up at that. "And my name?"

Cosinga experienced an unusual moment of softness. "Aulus means palace. You had great potential. At one point I had high hopes for your future, boy." _And curse me, I may still._

Aulus smiled suddenly, a lopsided faint grin, and an embarrassed and raging anger surged through Cosinga's body. His eldest son dared to mock him even now! After all he had done! He stood up abruptly, handed Maree to the nursing droid, and seized Aulus's thin arm, ignoring the short glare from his eldest and propelling him out into the hall.

When he caught sight of Aulus's personal nursery droid, hovering just outside the room and appearing almost ashamed in the way its claws twisted, Cosinga shoved his son into its arms. Aulus pulled himself up and settled there with practiced ease while he eyed his father with an unfathomable expression. Not anger, not fear, not anything a _normal _child should have, just an empty awareness that continued to deride its recipient.

Cosinga, uncomfortable and impatient to return to Maree, only hissed, "Go to bed. And try to stay out of trouble, if you can."

_**Palpatine had at least 4 younger siblings (at least 2 brothers and 2 sisters) according to **__Darth Plagueis__._

"_**I was born mature**__**, Father, fully grown, and you hated me for it, because you grasped that I was everything you can never be." – Palpatine, **__Darth Plagueis_

**There is definitely some miscommunication between those two. I have purposefully made Palpatine more advanced than typical human beings his age, based off the above quote from DP. **

**This chapter is a bonus/compensation for the fact that I will have no internet for several days and therefore cannot update any stories in that time.**

**Read and review! Reviews are the catnip of authors everywhere. :) **


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